


Fost & Found

by nihonlove



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Bullying, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Foster Care, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Married Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Trans Yuri Plisetsky, Transitioning, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-15 02:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9214682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nihonlove/pseuds/nihonlove
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky had resigned himself to the fact that he'd never have a place to call a home anymore, nor people to call family. Then he meets his newest foster parents.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was largely inspired by the TV show _The Fosters_ (which y'all should watch). There are a few touches from that show littered around that you can probably spot if you're a fan like me :3. It really made me want to write a fic about a foster family, but it wasn't until _Yuri!!! on Ice_ happened (and I fell so in love with it) that the fandom I was in felt suitable to write about that. 
> 
> So this is a story where Yuuri and Viktor foster Yuri. The fic itself is set in the future, and is canon divergent in that Yuri was obviously born much later than in canon (and so were likely some of the other younger skaters). The Viktuuri backstory is basically canon, but given that Yuri wasn't around, Yuuri won at the first Grand Prix that Viktor coached him for. He ended up continuing skating for a few more seasons as well. The rest of their backstory will come up later in the fic itself.
> 
> The first few chapters will likely be in somewhat chronological order, but I might skip ahead sometimes, or possibly add in other fics and make this into a series. It's all supposed to mostly be snapshots into the lives of this one little family as they try and make it work. You can also send me requests from this verse :).
> 
> Ages:  
> Viktor - 42  
> Yuuri - 38  
> Yuri - 14

“They’ll be here soon, Yuri,” Rita says, probably trying to sound reassuring. Or maybe it’s just so she can have something to say, something to do, to break the awkward silence in her tiny and messy office.

Yuri Plisetsky doesn’t say anything, merely averts his gaze. He likes Rita for the most part, at least much better than he did his previous social worker. Rita at least seems to give a shit or two about him and what happens to him. She always calls him by his actual name and pronouns, encouraging or even ordering other people to do the same, depending on their relationship and status in regards to her (it doesn’t always work, though), and has been trying to find him a place in an LGBT+ group home. She went beyond that, however, and has been claiming she found him a family instead. An actual, real foster family. Who are, apparently, even interested in adopting him if everything goes well.

Yuri knows he should technically be grateful for all of that. If it had been difficult for anyone to find him a place to stay based on what it said on his file before, after the events of the past few months and what has been added to his file, he knows it could be considered next to a miracle anyone wants to foster him anymore. But Yuri has learned by now not to trust any promises for a permanent, happy home. It’s not like this will be the first family to foster him. And there are good reasons for why he hasn’t been able to stay in any of his previous ones permanently, no matter what anyone says. Most of his previous foster families have only put up with him so long as he pretends to be something he’s not; acting, talking and dressing like some type of actor in a play that never ends. It always end up reminding him of his first home, the one that was supposed to be his real home for so long as he was growing up, and in one way or another the situation would always end up blowing right up in his face. And so,  since he left his first home, there’s only really ever been one place, one home, where Yuri has ever felt safe and happy, where he trusted he could be himself. But that place no longer exists.

“Ah, there they are,” Rita suddenly says, bringing Yuri out of his thoughts as she stands up. She goes to greet the people who supposedly want to foster Yuri at the door of her office. Yuri isn’t sure if she expects him to go there as well, but he doesn’t care either way, so he stays put. He doesn’t see the point of making an effort, when he’s probably not going to be staying with these people for a very long time either way. It’s better this way, for everyone included. And Yuri’s done pretending to be something he’s not by now. He’s not going to do that for the benefit of these people, or Rita’s cause, or because it’s what he’s ‘supposed’ to do. He just hopes Rita can maybe clear him a spot in that LGBT+ group home by the time he leaves this new foster home he’s been thrust into.

His ears pick up soft footsteps, and before he can stop himself, he looks up to see his supposed new foster parents. The one in the lead looks to be a man of probably the final years of his thirties, of an Eastern Asian descent, with his dark hair and eyes that are covered by glasses. He’s slightly on the chubbier side, but there is a type of grace to his movements that surprises Yuri. His steps are careful and soft, as if approaching a spooked animal. He looks nervous, his shoulders hunched up, but his eyes are kind. Still, the thought of Yuri being the spooked animal in this scenario is enough to make him turn away from him in a huff, before he can even take in the guy’s other half, trailing into the room with Rita.

“Yuri, these are your new foster parents, Yuuri and Viktor,” Rita says.

Yuri blinks. One of them has the same name as him? Well, he then thinks, that might get awkward if he expected to be called by his actual name…

“Hey, Yuri,” one of them speaks in a soft tone, and Yuri is so startled at the use of his real name that he looks up again in shock, meeting the brown eyes of Fatty the Asian man. His lips form a soft smile, and Yuri can tell it was him who spoke. His gaze is strangely warm, and Yuri suddenly feels a bit awkward looking right at him.

“That’ll get confusing though,” another man’s voice cuts in, a slightly deeper one than Fatty’s. Yuri finally turns to discreetly glance up at the one who is probably Fatty’s partner. Yuri only gives him a quick glance, not wanting to show his curiosity, but he can tell Fatty’s partner is tall and slender. It’s difficult to tell exactly what age he is, though. He seems to have grown into his years rather graciously, having only a few complimentary lines here and there on his face, but his thinning, very light-colored hair betrays his age. As do his hands, long-fingered like a pianist’s, but littered with lines and veins. Yuri avoids his eyes, and blocks out the conversation taking place.

Had Rita mentioned his new foster parents were in fact two men? He isn’t sure. She may have; it’s not like he had been paying much attention to whatever she’s told him about them. It doesn’t change anything, though. It’s not like it’s unusual. It doesn’t mean they won’t treat him any differently than his four other homes. He mustn’t let himself think that it does. He won’t.

_“Are you listening, Yurochka?”_ someone suddenly speaks, in Russian nonetheless. That finally pulls Yuri out of his mind, rising his head in shock. The familiar language, not to mention the old nickname…for a second when he looks up, he expects to see the familiar old, wrinkled, dear face. But all he meets are Baldy’s clear blue eyes, somehow managing to look amused and serious at the same time. Now that he gets a proper look, the face does look somehow distantly familiar. But it’s not the face Yuri wanted to see, so he ignores it, turning away once more with a huff.

_“Don’t call me that,”_ he replies in a hiss in Russian, without even thinking about it. It’s always been like this with him though. Whenever someone would talk to him in Russian, it felt almost as though someone pulled a switch in his head, turning his brain into the ‘Russian language activated’ mode. He tries to shake it off, shake off all words, not say anything more.

_“What would you like to be called then? I can’t call both of you just ‘Yuri.’”_ Baldy continues in Russian, and without being able to help it, Yuri wonders how he learned the language. He sounds fluent, speaking much in the same way as…

“Viktor,” Fatty cuts in. _“I think we can figure it out as we go along. Or you can just call me something else instead.”_ The surprises apparently won’t stop coming today, because it seems like Fatty also speaks Russian. His version of it is slightly accented, but he sounds fluent as well from what Yuri can tell.

“As much as it delights me to know Yuri will be able to keep up his Russian in his new home, can we please return to English for the sake of us who can’t understand you?” Rita then says.

“Oh, of course, pardon us,” Baldy says, giving Rita a bright grin that Yuri assumes he thinks is charming. He turns to Fatty momentarily, and says something to him in a language that Yuri can’t understand or speak. But whatever it was that he said, it makes a soft glow of pink grow on Fatty’s cheeks, and he punches Baldy lightly in the arm, saying something back. Yuri sees a gleaming golden band on Fatty’s right ring finger as he pulls the hand back to his lap. Yuri wonders why they wear their wedding rings on the right hand, and also squashes the question of how long they have been together in his mind.

Yuri blocks out the rest of the conversation, much as he did before, but it doesn’t even last much longer. Fatty and Baldy merely sign a few forms, exchange a few more words with Rita, and then it’s apparently time to go.

“Would you like to say goodbye, Yuri?” Fatty asks in English as Yuri finally rises from his seat, grabbing the backpack that holds all of his meager belongings in this world from where it was resting at his feet.

“Not particularly,” Yuri snaps, though it comes out softer than he intended it to. It’s not like he has anything against Rita, particularly. He just feels like she’s kidding himself with these people, and with the whole foster care. While it is true that she’s by no means blind to the cracks in the system, she still believes there to be some good people left in the world, the ones who make the system work for some. Well, Yuri’s been in the system for only two years, and he already knows better than her.

“All right, then,” Fatty says, his expression not changing. His shoulders are still hunched with nerves, and he doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. But his eyes are still warmer than Yuri expected when they look at him. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

Yuri barely avoids snorting at that, but in the end, when they are at the door of the office, he turns back to look at Rita over his shoulder.

She gives him a small, encouraging smile. “Good luck, Yuri.”

That’s all she says, and Yuri’s not sure how to feel about that. On one hand, he’s grateful because he won’t have to listen to meaningless words of encouragement about how everything is going to be different this time around, how all will be fine and he will finally be able to be who he truly is with these people. But still, a very small part of him…kind of also wishes she’d say something like that, even if he’d be unlikely to believe it.

He doesn’t say anything of that sort, though. Instead, he just nods at her and follows Fatty and Baldy out of the shabby office complex of DCF, to the elevators and properly outside the building. No one speaks on the way across the street to Baldy and Fatty’s car.

It’s a nice car, roomy and modern, though Yuri can’t say which model or year it is, never having been much of a car person. All he can say about it is that it’s black and it’s clearly a family model. The idea makes him want to laugh again, but he merely slips silently into the backseat. He takes his backpack with him there, not trusting the two adults with it. They don’t remark on it, just get on their seats in the front. Baldy’s driving.

“Remember to put your seatbelt on,” Fatty tells Yuri softly over his shoulder.

“What do you care?” Yuri asks.

“Well, while you’re safer over there than I am here in the front, if something happened, you could still get hurt rather badly. It’s much safer to wear a seatbelt, don’t you think?”

Yuri blinks. He’s not sure what he was expecting, but such a calm reaction certainly isn’t it. Nor the deadpan humor.

He grumbles for a while longer, but he puts his seatbelt on. Fatty grants him a smile for that, and Yuri averts his gaze, because he doesn’t want to see it.

The adults don’t speak to him on the way, but they talk amongst themselves. It’s annoying though, because they keep talking in that language Yuri can’t understand, and therefore he can’t tell what they’re saying other than by their reactions. He’s pretty sure they’re talking about him (after all, why else switch to a language he can’t understand?), but he can’t know what, and that bugs him. Are they already making plans about what his room should look like, and what he should wear? Or is he going to go to a room already prepared for him, and a closet full of dresses, skirts and pink? They had addressed him by his real name earlier, but that might’ve just been for Rita’s benefit and favor, and Yuri is not stupid enough to let his guard down for these people that easily.

The drive feels long. It takes them away from the Minneapolis central proper, and all the way to the suburbs. Yuri’s not sure how long exactly the drive takes, but finally, the car pulls up in front of a nice-looking two-story stone house. A few kids are playing outside in the street a bit further away despite the cold air, and a few of the neighbouring houses even have white picket fences. Yuri almost wants to laugh at how all-American and domestic it all seems.

Instead, though, he just climbs out of the car, taking his backpack with him as Fatty and Baldy also exit the car. He follows them to the front step of the house, keeping his head down. He doesn’t want anyone to see him or look at him, yet feels like everyone’s staring.

Badly opens the door. The house is just as all-American as the street seems, but even Yuri can’t quite escape the fact that there is also a type of warmth to it that he wasn’t expecting. The walls are a creamy color, making natural light of the windows reflect on them. There are pictures everywhere, most of them featuring one or both of the two men he’s going to live with, and sometimes other people as well. The place has just enough clutter to not look artificial as well; a bag stuffed with clothes by the door, the row of hooks for coats piled on top of each other and overly full, knickknacks on the little self by the stairs…

Then, as it to add to the homely atmosphere, a loud bark sounds from somewhere in the house, and a pair of dogs come strolling through to them. One is a large, fluffy and brown poodle, the other looks to be a Shiba.

Baldy lets out a sound of delight, grouching down to pet the two dogs as if he hadn’t seem them in weeks. Yuri huffs. Great, his new foster parents are _dog people_.

“You can just put your coat there, Yuri,” Fatty tells him, pointing to the hooks stuffed with other coats. Yuri hesitates. He doesn’t want to leave any of his things where he won’t have immediate access to them. Strangely, Fatty seems to notice this, because the next thing he says is, “Or would you just like me to take you to your room?”

His room. Yuri tries not to feel excited about the idea. But it’s been so long since he’s had a room of his very own; his personal, private space…

“Room is okay,” he mumbles, refusing to look Fatty in the face.

“Okay,” Fatty says, and starts leading the way upstairs. “But please take off your shoes before you go inside,” Yuri blinks, but obeys and takes off his shoes, grabbing them in hand. He also notes now that Fatty is also only in his socks, as the man walks past him. Fatty pats the dogs briefly as he passes them, while Yuri decidedly avoids getting even remotely close to them. The Shiba tries to follow after them, but Fatty sternly says, “Mina, _stay_ ,” which seems to stop it. It stays behind to enjoy its other master’s attentions instead.

Fatty leads Yuri up the stairs. It’s spacious up, and the walls are still light-colored. Fatty speaks on the way. “The first bedroom is where Viktor and I sleep. Across from that is the guest bedroom, and next to it is the extra bathroom. We thought you might like your own bathroom, so we let you have the room at the end of the hall.”

Yuri blinks. He gets his own bathroom? Well, that’s at least one thing less to worry about. The thought of having that much privacy almost fills him with joy and relief, before he remembers to be more cautious with his feelings.

Fatty leads him to the end of the upstairs corridor, and opens the door to Yuri’s apparent new room for him. It’s spacious, much like the rest of the house; well big enough for a queen-sized bed, a writing desk and a set of drawers. There’s a rollable curtain on the window and dark blue sheets on the bed, but other than that, the room is completely bare of any personal touches. It’s very minimalistic, but all that does is get Yuri’s imagination running wild about what he can do with this place. What he, at least, hopes he can do with this place.

As if to answer a question, Fatty says, “We left it so you can decorate it the way you want. We can even change the sheets to something else if you like, but do you think you can manage with them for one night at least?”

Yuri shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant, even though inside he’s practically jumping. This is something he doesn’t even bother to be cautiously optimistic about. He just figures he’ll enjoy it as long as it lasts, even if it will be harder to go back to the system, to shared and readily-decorated rooms once these people get sick of him and he is forced to leave.

Fatty doesn’t comment on it, only asks, “Are you hungry? We’ve already eaten lunch, but I can make you a sandwich if you are.”

Yuri shakes his head. Rita fed him before Baldy and Fatty arrived to get him, and he’s sure as hell not asking for food from these people.

Fatty smiles minimally. “All right then. We’ll be downstairs if you need anything. The TV is also downstairs, if you want to watch something, and we have quite a few books in the library—” they have a library at their house? Of course they do, “—but if you don’t need anything else, dinner will be at six. We expect you to join us.”

Yuri just nods, and Fatty leaves it at that. He closes the door behind him for the most part, but leaves it slightly ajar. Yuri wonders if it’s meant to signify an invitation of some kind. He’s not about to care, though.

Instead, he just takes off his coat and falls down on his bed, clutching his backpack. Because there is no one around to see anymore, he curls up on his side like a cat, hiding his face in the backpack. Even though he’s been through this process so many times already, it never ceases to feel overwhelming. He wishes he could be tougher about this, like a real man, but being in a totally new environment like this always just makes him feel weak like a little girl. His eyes burn, his throat closes, and he tries to take a few steadying breaths to calm down.

He’s only half-successful.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, finally! 
> 
> Thank you all so, so much for all the wonderful comments and encouragement you've given me and this fic so far, it's been just wonderful :D. I don't think I've received this many comments since my Yu-Gi-Oh! days (which was going on nine years ago. Man, is that depressing :/) :O.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter as well :).

Yuri doesn’t go down until the digital alarm clock on his nightstand, as well as his hunger and the smell of food cooking tell him it’s dinnertime. He took a little nap earlier, and then ended up reading the collection of Russian fairy tales that he had gotten to take with him from his Grandpa’s house to pass the time. That book has always made him feel simultaneously better and worse in a new home, but it has become almost like a tradition for him, so at least reading it brought something resembling stability in his current situation.

He follows his nose down the stairs and through the house to where the food is located, but as he reaches the door to what is likely the kitchen, he is stopped by the poodle from earlier jumping all over him and licking at his face. He’s trying in vain to get it to stop, to leave him alone, when Baldy comes to his rescue and pulls the dog away.

“Mocha, bad boy!” Baldy scolds the dog, holding it by the collar. “Stay,” he commands the dog, and it finally settles, sitting down next to his master, panting. Baldy offers Yuri a hand. “Sorry, he’s a bit too friendly towards new people. It’s just his way of getting to know you.”

Yuri ignores the hand and just stands up on his own merit. “Anywhere I can clean the dog drool off me?”

Baldy looks stunned momentarily, but then shrugs it off and just says, “Follow me, I’ll show you to the downstairs bathroom.”

The bathroom is located all the way on the other end of the house. Yuri quickly cleans his face with soap and dries with toilet paper, washing his hands in the meantime for dinner. It’s another thing he’s carried over through all his homes; that if it’s at all possible, he wants to wash or at least clean his hands before he eats.

Baldy is waiting for him outside when he comes out.

“I could make it back by myself,” Yuri says, irritated and uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to spend any more time with these people than he has to.

“I’m sure you could,” Baldy acknowledges. “But I had nothing better to do, and wanted to make sure. Plus, me being here to control him will keep Mocha from bouncing you again.”

He makes a good point, but Yuri refuses to say it. He just follows Baldy back to where they came from, and finally gets to properly enter the kitchen, which doubles as the dining room.

Fatty is putting the last of the meal on the table, and he has an apron over his regular clothes. Apparently, he’s the one that cooked. Yuri wonders if this is a regular occurrence. The food is served in bowls, which throws him off slightly, because it doesn’t look like soup. But it smells good and greasy and he’s hungry, so he figures he won’t complain, just this once.

Baldy steps over to his husband, and gives him a kiss on the cheek, putting his arms around him from behind. Fatty in turn covers Baldy’s hands with his own. Their matching golden rings glimmer in the evening twilight coming in from the kitchen window and Yuri wants to puke. Great, not only are they  _ dog people _ , but they are apparently also one of  _ those couples _ .

Yuri doesn’t listen to what they’re saying, and just sits down at the table. He doesn’t know if he can sit anywhere he likes there, but he doesn’t particularly care. He would also start eating right away, manners be damned, except for the fact that he hasn’t been offered a fork, but instead two sticks that are resting next to his steaming bowl.

“Hey,” he speaks to the couple. “How am I supposed to eat with these?” He holds up the sticks.

“Oh, that’s right, I didn’t realize, I’m sorry,” Fatty says, stepping out his husband’s embrace and walking over to one of the many drawers in the room. When he opens it, Yuri can see it’s filled with utensils. Fatty takes out a fork and a knife, and hands them to Yuri. “Just for tonight though. We’ll teach you how to eat with chopsticks in time.”

Yuri snorts. “Why would I want to learn that?”

Instead of Fatty, Baldy is the one who answers, his voice filled with glee, “Because katsudon tastes so much better when you eat it the right way!”

Katsudon? What the hell is that supposed to be? Yuri glances down at his bowl. It looks like it’s filled with rice, and something that looks like deep-fried meat, and topped with an egg. It smells good though.

Before he can dig in for himself, though, the two men sit down at the table by their own bowls. Fatty turns to him, “Yuri, would you like for us to say a grace?”

Yuri looks up from his bowl. He’s not sure what to say. He hasn’t believed in God for a long time, and hasn’t said grace for just about the same time. They used to say grace in his Grandpa’s house before and after each meal. In the first foster home he had been in they had said grace before the meal, but it had been a protestant prayer rather than an Orthodox one, and it had felt phony and fake for more reasons than one. Yuri’s faith had gone with Grandpa, and saying grace of any kind had felt like a mockery or pretence; even more so when it wasn’t for the faith he had used to have. But back then Yuri hadn’t felt like he had had a choice, not just in religion but everything, and had said it anyway, afraid he wasn’t going to be allowed to eat if he refused to pray. (No wonder he’d eventually snapped under the pressure there.) He’s never been asked how he feels about it, just followed the example set by the people he’s staying with.

Slightly curious, he asks, “Do you normally say grace?”

“Oh, no!” Baldy replies. “It would be kind of pointless anyway, since Yuuri and I don’t even have the same faith, and I’m a very non-practicing in mine anyway. But if you would like to say it, we’ll gladly respect that.”

Yuri blinks. These people just won’t stop with the surprises, will they? Still, in this case, if he’s not going to be made to say anything, he figures it’s best to be truthful, “I don’t need to say grace, now or ever.”

They seem satisfied with that, say something in unison that he doesn’t understand, and then start eating their own food, managing well enough with just the sticks. Yuri picks up his fork and hesitantly tucks into his own meal as well, taking a piece of meat and topping it up some of the rice on the fork before putting it in his mouth.

The flavor explodes on his tongue. It’s greasy and wonderful and so full of everything he hadn’t realized he’d missed. The meat is tender and crunchy,  the rice so well-cooked and everything is seasoned so beautifully that he just has to have more, right now, immediately. He practically shoves the food in his mouth for a while.

Then, Fatty says, “Yuri, slow down, the food is not going anywhere.” He doesn’t sound angry though. He grabs the bowl of salad on the table and passes it over to Yuri. “Have some salad with it.”

Ugh, vegetables. “No, thanks,” Yuri says, shoving more food into his mouth, though a little slower than before.

To his surprise, Fatty doesn’t relent, and after taking some salad for himself, places it by Yuri’s bowl. 

“Have some salad with it,” he says. He gives his husband some sort of look, and then Baldy takes some salad as well. And, strangely, Yuri begins to feel childish by being the only one who doesn’t have any, so he takes some. Just a little though.

Fatty smiles at him at that, and Yuri feels the flush of embarrassment come over him. He focuses on his meal so he doesn’t have to look at Fatty and his happy smile, looking like he’s proud of Yuri or something.

They all eat in peace for a few moments, before Fatty speaks up again, “I was thinking we could go shopping to the city tomorrow. How does that sound?”

Shopping? For what? Those appropriate clothes Yuri has been dreading?

Baldy smiles at the idea. “Sounds good. Better to get it over with, right? And then Yuri will have new clothes to wear to school on Monday, too.”

Right, school. Yuri hadn’t even thought that far yet, but of course he will have to go to school again. He’s been to just about as many schools as he has foster homes since he’s been in the system. He already feels like he’s seen all of it, and he’s already not looking forward to seeing more. All he can hope for is that it’s a nicer school than the last one he was at. They’ll probably call him by the wrong pronouns, but at least Yuri’s learned how to avoid people at school over the years.

“Yuri, what do you think?” Fatty asks him, his tone gentle. “Would you like to go buy some new clothes? Perhaps some things for your room, too?”

Yuri doesn’t know what to answer. He doesn’t have that many clothes or other things for that matter. He only has pyjamas, and one other set of clothing aside from the ones he’s currently wearing. He needs new clothes; even wants them. But he doesn’t want to be told what to wear again, be forced into bright colors and skirts. He feels like that’s what he’s signing up for if he says yes.

Fatty blinks momentarily, as if coming to a realization about something. Then, he says, “Of course, you’ll be allowed to choose your clothes yourself. We’ll just buy them for you. As long as they’re not too expensive, of course.” He gives a type of stern quick look at his husband as he says this, and it’s probably got some sort of meaning that Yuri is not aware of yet, but it makes Baldy’s face fall slightly as he pouts. “What do you say?”

This is new to Yuri. He doesn’t think he’s ever been able to completely freely choose his own clothes. The closest he came was at Grandpa’s house, but even then, they needed to shop at second-hand stores because Grandpa didn’t have much money, so Yuri had to make due with what he could find. He’d become really good at finding the good stuff in those types of stores over the years, and most of the clothes he’d had at the time he’d considered truly his own and had even liked. He had worn them for as long as he could, even in the system, but then he’d had to hit his cursed puberty and the clothes had gotten too small, often in more ways than one. Now, for the first time in two years, he’s presented with the idea of getting clothes he actually genuinely wants to wear, wants to own. Maybe he can even sneak in a binder? Or at least a flattening sports bra? He is not very large, chest-wise, thankfully; being able to mostly hide it completely if he wears big enough shirts, but if he had something to help, he could maybe wear something tighter once in a while, too…

He’s almost salivating for the possibility of all of this, eager to the point that is scary. Because hope is a dangerous emotion to feel. It can so easily be taken away from him. But…he wants this. Really wants it. Wants to be able to feel like himself for once, feel like he can properly express who he is for once.

Still, he tries not to show his eagerness and be on the cautious side, and says, “Will we have to talk?”

Fatty looks momentarily disappointed, his face falling for a minute, but he gathers himself quickly. “We don’t have to talk. We can only talk about the clothes, about what you want to buy and so on, if that’s what you want.”

Yuri takes another mouthful of food, pretending to still think about it. But when he has swallowed, he says, “Well, okay.”

…

They leave bright and early the next morning after a hearty breakfast. Yuri didn’t eat much, not used to eating so much in the morning, but Fatty somehow managed to make him eat at least one egg with his toast. It’s weird how much that guy has the ability to make Yuri do something, and what’s even weirder is that Yuri doesn’t feel threatened by it. Fatty just always smiles at him when he does something that he has asked him to do, like a real proud parent, and Yuri hates to admit it, but he kind of likes that feeling. Most of his previous foster families had only disapproval or neglect to give him. The only one who has ever showed pride like that has been Grandpa. Yuri almost feels like he’s chasing his Grandpa's memory in Fatty’s smiles and quiet praise, but even the thought of that is not quite enough to make him stop. They’re small sacrifices, anyway, so what does he care? 

(But why must he have this type of need for the approval of this fatso anyway?)

Still, shopping in Minneapolis turns out to be an even better experience than Yuri expected. The adults let him take the lead as promised, and they only talk amongst themselves while Yuri picks out clothes. Once they realise better what Yuri likes, Baldy even has a few suggestions to offer on where to go next. Yuri is hesitant at first, but Fatty reassures him that Baldy knows all the best places around here. Seeing as Baldy has bought his fair share of everything, Yuri is willing to believe it and decides to let Baldy show the way to  _ one store _ . But then it turns out that particular shop sells  _ tiger-printed pants _ , and Yuri trusts to let Baldy show the way a little more from then on.

The three of them probably end up buying far too much stuff, from clothes to general items for Yuri’s new room and basic school supplies, but no one’s telling him no so Yuri lets himself enjoy all of it. He even gets a new cell phone, and it’s modern and cool and  _ awesome _ . Yuri’s never had a cell phone of his own, just the old one he shared with his foster siblings in his second foster home and which was only for emergencies. He hasn’t felt this free in years, and when he changes into a tiger shirt, a flashy sweater and some skinny jeans before they leave one store, he feels like he’s, like, shed his old skin for a new one or something. Refreshed. Renewed.  _ Reborn _ .

Yuri’s honestly getting more than a little hungry from all the walking and excitement, but saying that would break the rule of talking about something other than the clothes, so he decides it’s better to wait until they get back to the house.

But then, his choice is taken from him, when his foster parents begin talking amongst themselves.

“It’s too bad we can’t talk to Yuri about anything other than the clothes,” Baldy says, a little too loudly not to be highly suspicious. “Because that great pasta place that also sells yummy gelato is right across the street there. If we could talk to him, I’d suggest we go eat lunch and then we could treat him to a gelato.”

Gelato? As in, ice cream? It’s been so long since Yuri’s had any types of sweets to eat…not to mention the pasta alone sounds really good right about now.

“Yes, that’s really too bad,” Fatty joins in, with a sly edge to his voice. “But we should really respect Yuri’s wishes.”

“And the gelato is so very good, too. So full of flavor and so many types to choose from…”

Yuri stomps to a stop, and turns around, glaring at the adults. “Fine,” he hisses. “You’ve made your point.”

Both blink innocently at him. “And what point would that be?” Baldy asks, but there is a challenging glint in his eyes.

“Fine, we can talk about something other than just the clothes. I’m hungry, and I want pasta and a gelato. Now, can we please go eat?”

They both smile at him, and he averts his eyes, his face and insides hot with embarrassment.

“Yuri, all you had to do was ask,” Fatty says, and steps closer. “Let’s go.”

They go, and have a nice lunch. The pasta really is tasty, seasoned just right, and the gelato is even better. Yuri gets strawberry, Fatty pear and Baldy chocolate. It’s the best kind of strawberry ice cream; one that actually tastes like sweet strawberries, rather than just artificial flavors and sugar.

“Is strawberry your favorite flavor?” Fatty asks him while they enjoy their desserts.

Yuri looks up from his treat, considering not answering. But these people got him clothes and gave him ice cream, and they clearly want him to talk, so he supposes he can play along for a bit. “Yeah. Though it doesn’t always taste as good. Too artificial.”

Fatty blinks in pleasant surprise, probably having not expected him to actually answer. But then his shock melts into a smile. “I know what you mean. I like strawberry a lot too, but I wanted to have my other favorite this time around.”

“What about chocolate, do you like chocolate?” Baldy puts in, sounding eager to hear Yuri talk. It’s a bit unnerving.

Yuri considers lying, just to spare his feelings when he seems so excited, but squashes that thought quickly. He’s not gonna lie about something as important as ice cream. “Not as an ice cream flavor. Not sweet enough.”

Baldy blinks at him, then glances over at his husband, who is smirking at him for some reason. “You both are so weird,” he says, but it’s not mean-spirited, and he just tucks further into his ice cream.

“I don’t like chocolate in ice cream either,” Fatty explains, and Yuri has a feeling the two have had this argument before. He can’t help it; he smirks a little in return. Fatty answers it with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle.

Once they’re finished with the dessert, Fatty suddenly pulls his chair closer to Yuri’s, and speaks in a lower tone. “Yuri, there’s something I would like to ask you. You can decide not to answer, and I’ll respect that, but will you let me ask you?”

Yuri feels a bit nervous now, despite himself, but nods slowly. He feels like he’d feel worse not knowing what was so serious as this.

“I did some research before you came to live with us, and I found a store that sells both binders and sports bras for people like you. If you want to, we can go there now. But if you prefer not to bind in any way, that’s all right too, and we can just head home now.”

Yuri blinks, completely shocked. This was just about the last thing he ever expected to hear from a foster parent. Fatty is actually offering to get him a binder? Willingly, out of his own pocket? Without even being asked? And he’d done research on this? What the fuck?

Yuri doesn’t even know what to say, and just sits and stares there stunned.

“Yuri? Are you all right?” Fatty sounds worried now, snapping Yuri out of his haze.

Still, all Yuri can manage out is, “…you’d get me a binder?”

“Of course, if you want one,” Fatty says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “There would be some rules, of course, like that you can’t wear it to bed and must always take it off if it’s causing you any sort of pain, which you also need to tell us about. But if you want to bind, you should be allowed to bind.”

Yuri finds himself looking over at Baldy, expecting reluctance or disapproval on him. But all he is doing is smiling in an encouraging manner, as if this really is just up to Yuri to decide.

So, all Yuri can really do, is decide. “…I would like a binder.”

Fatty nods, smiling gently at him. “Then let’s go. It’s a bit further away, so we need to get back to the car.”

Yuri is jitterish the whole way to the car, and the ride to the store. A part of him still expects this to be some type of elaborate joke, but he also can’t help but be excited. He’s never had a binder before, and if this is real, it feels like he’s taking the next real step towards being the person he truly is. All he’s so far been able to do is just change his name and his pronouns, as well as starting to wear new types of clothes. He’s been trying to get everyone to agree with his real name and pronouns, and let him use the correct bathroom when in public places, but most of the time he hasn’t been too successful. Everyone still looks at him and think ‘girl.’ He’s not sure if a binder alone will change that, but it feels like a step in the right direction, a way to start convincing people that his identity and perception of himself are real.

He almost finds himself wondering what the next step will be, and if he’ll be allowed to take it soon. Could he start hormone therapy? Or at least go on birth control so he doesn’t have to suffer through periods anymore? Yuri’s 14 and he’s not entirely sure if he’s done growing just yet, in all ways. It would be best if he could nip his body changing into something it’s not supposed to be in the bud, and instead start transforming it into something he’d be much more comfortable with. But he doesn’t dare ask. He doesn’t want to push. These people have been kinder to him so far than any of his other foster families, and seem to actually be willing to listen to his wants and needs. That alone kind of makes him want to stay with them a little longer, and he hates that he’s already afraid that if he pushes too far with who he is, or shows it too much, they may still change their minds about him, and Yuri will be tossed back into the system. It’s only been a day, but already Yuri is dreading that, and it’s strange, because he thought he had already come to terms with the idea that nothing is permanent, and his stay with these people won’t be either. 

He’s still deep in his thoughts when the car pulls over, parking on the side of the street. They’re further from the central now, and the stores here are smaller and more obscure; those that can’t quite carry themselves in the best spots. The store they’re going to is right across the street, a tasteful-looking small establishment with a rainbow flag painted on the door.

“Ah, Yuuri!” the person behind the counter greets and Yuri blanches momentarily because he’s pretty sure he doesn’t know the heavy person with eyeshadow and a beard. But when Fatty responds the greeting and exchanges a few words of pleasantries, Yuri realizes the stranger was talking to his foster father, and man, is the name thing ever weird and confusing.

“Oh, and is this the little boy you were talking about? The one who might want a binder?” the stranger asks, leaning over the counter to peer closer at Yuri.

Yuri flushes. “I’m not a little boy,” he mumbles. “I’m 14.”

“Of course, of course,” the stranger says in an indulgent manner and smiles at him. “This is your first binder, correct?”

Yuri nods, because although this person is kind of annoying him, he also really wants a binder that is as fitting and safe for him as can possibly be.

The stranger nods, and steps around the counter to Yuri. “Let’s go to the changing room, and we’ll get you measured. I hope you won’t mind me seeing you without a shirt?”

Yuri shrugs. He’s not entirely comfortable with it, but he knows that this person must see tons of manboobs every day, and he supposes it’s best just to get this over with. He just hopes they can do it without talking. He doesn’t feel like explaining his whole life history.

Thankfully, the stranger, who introduces themselves as Jamie and as the owner of this store, seems to sense that Yuri is a broody teenager who doesn’t feel like talking, and they take his measurements efficiently and quickly, while also giving him the rules of the thumb about wearing a binder. They align mostly with what Fatty said.

“You’re lucky in that your cup size is rather small,” Jamie says. “By the time I was around your age, I had the biggest boobs in my class, if not my whole school. They were much harder to bind when I got to that stage, and of course, the options were much fewer in my day, too. I didn’t ever want to take my binder off because my boobs were so obvious to everyone without it, but wearing it constantly also caused me pain and even bad health. If you wear loose shirts, you should be fine even without a binder.”

“I know,” Yuri mumbles, though he’s a bit uncomfortable with having to listen to someone else’s life story, even if it’s better than sharing his own. “I’ve been managing fine without it so far. It’s just…for some occasions.”

“I get it,” Jamie smiles, as they hand Yuri his shirt. “It’s an important step. Makes it all feel more real, doesn’t it?”

And Yuri, despite himself, nods slightly. And then he does something even weirder, and asks, “…Are you still binding?”

“Oh no!” Jamie laughs. “I had my breasts removed years ago! That was much simpler, and clearly the healthier option in the long run for me, personally. But I knew there were a lot of people out there who still wanted to bind, so I started this store. Not that binders are the only thing I sell.” They wink at Yuri.

Indeed, when Yuri steps out, he is greeted by his foster parents. Baldy is holding what look to be two t-shirts over his arm; one blue, one pink. They both smile at him as Yuri comes out, and Yuri almost blushes at how pleased they look to see him. He averts his eyes.

“Ready to go?” Fatty asks him gently.

Yuri nods shortly, and they go over to the counter to pay for Yuri’s binder and the t-shirts. Once they are placed on the counter, Yuri can see that they are matching ones that both say ‘I love my husband.’ It’s so cheesy he almost wants to laugh at it.

He lets his gaze wonder over the store as Jamie rings up their items. There are some humorous t-shirts of the same model as the ones his foster parents got. He’s kind of amused by the one that says “Let’s get one thing straight – I’m not!” There are binders, but also non-gender conforming swimsuits, some flannel shirts in all sizes and various items with rainbow and other LGBT+ flags. It’s very G-rated, honestly, and Yuri’s kind of surprised. The only LGBT+ stores he’s seen on TV have always been catered for much more adult type of audience.

Suddenly, his eyes find another t-shirt. This one is black, and simple. It says ‘Ask me about my pronouns,’ and he’s pretty sure the small size would fit him…

“Yuri,” Baldy spoke to him, making Yuri jump slightly. “Would you like a t-shirt as well?”

Yuri could feel himself blush. “…It’s fine. I can get it some other time.” He had already bought so many clothes today. Shouldn’t that be enough already?

“Which one do you want?” Baldy asked, not deterred in the least, looking over at Yuri with strangely earnest look in his blue eyes. Yuri glances over at Fatty, who seemed to be the more sensible one of them so far, but all he met with was a soft encouraging smile and warm brown eyes.

And Yuri finds his resolve crumbling down. He points silently at the t-shirt.

“Ah, good choice! One of my personal favorites!” Jamie says with a grin, as Baldy steps over to pick up one of the t-shirts, brings it over, and pays for that as well.

Somehow, Yuri feels like that shirt means as much to him as the binder.

The three of them step out of the store, Jamie telling them to come back soon, and begin walking across the street to the car.

“Yuri,” Fatty addresses him. “Since we’re already in the city, we’d like to show you your school and where we work before we’ll go back home. We’d like it if you came to stay with one of us after you get out of school, at least for a little while, until you can either learn to take the bus or get a driver’s license. You can do your homework in one of our offices, and if you like, you can also practice with us.”

_ Practice what?  _ Yuri wants to ask, because he realizes he actually has no idea what his new foster parents do for a living. He honestly is starting to feel like he should’ve paid more attention towards what Rita told him about them. Still, he supposes he can find out if he agrees to go see where they work. He’s not sure yet about how he feels about hanging around wherever that is all day, but he can reserve his judgements for later. So he agrees.

They drive towards the direction of the house, and have been in the car for a few minutes when Fatty asks over his shoulder in the front, “Yuri, since we’re on the topic of you going to school, I should probably mention that we haven’t disclosed your gender in any form to anyone there yet. We thought it’d be the best to let you decide how much you want other people to know.” Yuri blinks. “You don’t have to decide anything now either; I’m just letting you know.”

Yuri’s not sure how to feel. This day, these people; they are just a whole set of firsts after another, aren’t they? How is he expected to keep up with all of this, the way they seem to try and take his feelings into account on everything? He hasn’t had that since…

Well. Since Grandpa

“...what if I want to go as I am?” he asks, because he has to. He’s tired of hiding, of pretending, and he’d much prefer to just be himself. He’s been outed before, and he can admit it’s left him wary, but also more reluctant to hide. At least if everything is out in the open, being outed is one less thing he has to be worried about. He knows he probably can’t pass yet, so if he goes as himself, as a boy, he knows there will be suspicions, questions. He could go and pretend to be a tomboyish girl. He’s done it before. But the thought of going back in his progress like that, going back to not even being able to demand people call him by the correct pronouns and the correct name, feels like a weight he’s not willing to take up and carry again. 

He knows there will be consequences, no matter what he does. People will prod and question; call him names and probably throw punches. Maybe steal his things, shove him in lockers. But if he goes as he is, he can at least say he’s being true to himself. He’ll have that at the very least. And he won’t have to fear being outed, or worry about  _ coming  _ out. It’ll just be easier if everyone already knows, especially if Yuri will be able to go on and transition further in the near future. He’s not sure what he’ll do about bathrooms and changing rooms yet. It may not be safe to be with the boys, but being with the girls would also be a betrayal of himself. But he can maybe decide as he goes along; when he knows a bit more about the school he’s going to be attending. But he knows he’s through with hiding. He’s done enough of that.

What he doesn’t know is how his foster parents feel about him being out. If they’d prefer he’d keep on hiding, if they’ll have his back at all if he wants to be himself. They’ve been nice so far, but it’s a whole different thing when everything will be out in the open than in the privacy of their own home or with just a few select people. Yuri will do what he wants regardless of what they think, but...it’d be nice if he didn’t have to be alone in that.

Fatty smiles at him. “Then we’ll do everything we can so that you’ll be able to have as good an experience in school as possible.”

“If anyone gives you a hard time,” Baldy cuts in, “tell us. We’re not going to let that type of treatment slide. I don’t care what we’ll have to do, but we’ll do it, if it means you can be as happy and as safe as possible.”

They sound so convincing, Baldy seeming almost furious at the mere thought of someone giving Yuri a hard time, that Yuri almost believes them. He feels like he  _ wants  _ to believe them. He even hopes he can trust them on this, and the faith feels warm in his chest. He’s more than ready to fight his own battles, but...yeah, the idea of having some backup doesn’t sound so bad either.

“I want people to know who I am,” he says, but it comes out softer than he meant it to. 

“Then we’ll talk it over with the principal,” Fatty tells him. His voice is gentle, but Yuri can see a flash of fire in his eyes, one that suggests he’s gearing up for a battle. Yuri almost smiles. He’s ready to fight too. And for now, he feels like he’s willing to trust he won’t be left alone in the battlefield.

…

Around the time Yuri judges the three of them are about halfway between the suburbs his foster parents live in and the central of the city, when they drive past what will apparently be his new school. It’s a pretty non-descript building, cream-colored on the outside, made of stone and windows set in three neat rows on its walls. The yard has places for parking bikes and a basketball hoop for playing. It’s not much different from any other school Yuri’s been to, clearly built for the masses. It only sours the idea of having to go there on Monday further.

Fatty, who is driving this time, seems to realize this, as he smiles apologetically. “It’s rather plain, I know,” he says. “But it’s the closest school to our workplaces, and I know you only have one more semester before you start high school. We can discuss your options further then.”

Yuri blinks, and finds himself once again caught off-guard by how much Fatty seems to understand what he’s feeling and thinking, as well as how good solutions he always seems to offer.

He doesn’t say that, though. All he says is, “Whatever.”

They drive on, but not for much longer. Fatty tells him to pay attention so he knows the route a little bit to where he and Baldy work, though he also promises one of them will come and get Yuri from school the first few times so he can learn how to walk there properly. The idea of everyone seeing them come fetch Yuri is pretty humiliating, and he tells them that, but on this point, they seem unwilling to relent.

What they reach are two buildings, side by side, built on an otherwise empty field. One of them is much bigger than the other, with a higher roof and bigger grounds. It’s painted in blues and purples, looking cheerful but not tacky. Above its front door is a canopy, on which in letters it says “Nikiforov Skating Club.” And reading that, Yuri feels his heart jump into his throat.

He glances at the second building, this one much more modest. It’s painted white, and looks more miniscule in comparison with the other building, but alone it is still decent-sized. It only seems to have one front window. On that window is painted in black lettering “Katsuki School of Dance.” Seeing that doesn’t help his frantic heartbeat one bit. In fact, it only makes it worse.

Fatty is saying something to him, and Yuri thinks Baldy is even joining him, but Yuri can’t hear either one of them. All he can think about is how stupid he has been, and how fate must be laughing at him right now. Blood is rushing to his ears, and his mind becomes filled with thought after thought, all of which make him feel more and more foolish than the rest, muddling together into a huge pile of shit in his head. 

Viktor. Yuuri. Nikiforov. Katsuki. Russian. A language he didn’t recognize, but now realizes must’ve been Japanese. A skating club. A dance school. Minnesota. Videos watched over and over as often as he could on his Grandpa’s old computer, or the school computers, or whatever he could get his hands on. More than a few posters on his walls at Grandpa’s that he hadn’t been able to keep after being thrown into the foster system, nearly each of them depicting the same two men. Dreaming of someday being as good as those men, or even better. The way Fatty moved, with the grace of a dancer. The way they both looked, now that he thought about it further. They hadn’t been in the public eye as much as before in years, but now that Yuri knows, he can easily see how the men in his posters have become the men now trying to get his attention, and are beginning to sound a little worried.

Fucking hell. His new foster parents are Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki.

Isn’t life something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon is that the reason Yuri likes such flashy clothes is because he grew up poor, and now that he has money he likes to flaunt it, and uses it to express himself by the way that he dresses. I sort of tried to incorporate that here.
> 
> Jamie is a non-binary original character :).

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://nihonlove.tumblr.com/).


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